Disclaimer: I don't anyone in this fanfic besides my O/C and all that jazz.

Come inside,
Take a look.
You never know what you might see.
A bloody corpse,
A worn out knife?
You never know what your end might be.
So come inside,
Take a look.
Just don't get added to the book.

The deathly silence filled my home as I dug through one of my many knife drawers. I was searching for my favorite and best knife. I had named it Slash, due to how carelessly the wounds were always made with this knife. I gently pushed the other knives aside as I worked to find Slash.

My mouth twisted into a grin as I pulled out a black-sheathed knife with a blood-stained diamond the size of my thumbnail embedded within it. I pulled the knife out of its home-like sheath and admired the foot-long blade, gently running my finger along its sharpened edges.

I soon resheathed the knife and hooked it onto my belt. Closing the drawer with my hip, I glanced up into the mirror above the counter where the drawer was located. I found my groomed image staring back at me- shaggy, shoulder-length black hair hanging as neatly as possible in my face, a nice black suit with a red tie clothing my body- I was actually quite well-kept for someone of my proffesion.

I restraightened my tie and walked away from the mirror, heading towards my living room area. I took a seat on one of my fine, black leather couches and took out a small black book out of my coat pocket. I flipped open the cover, revealing a small page filled with three rows of the names of people, all of them crossed out with some sort of dash or 'x'. I flipped through the book, all of the pages I passed having the same appearance as the first- three rows of names, all crossed out, until I reached somewhere in the center of the book, where there were still names, only that about two and a half rows were crossed out. I went down the list of names until I reached the first uncrossed name.

Brendon Urie.

I grinned a bit wickedly, happy to exterminate one of the many people I dislike.

I slipped the book back into my coat pocket and laid back, relaxing my mind and preparing to think of ways to annihilate Mr. Brendon Urie...

xox

By now you must be wondering who I am, what I am doing, and why I am pondering ways to kill someone else.

Well, I am Gerard Way. I am what you would call a serial killer... of sorts. I kill for the sheer pleasure of it, and for money in desperate times of need. The small, black book I had is called my Kill Book- my list of people to be killed or that I have already killed. You probably think I'm insane, but I'm not. I'm a master and professional at what I do. In fact, in some psychotic way, I'm a pure genius. I am brilliant and clever, wise and defiant, calm and coordinated. I know the right way to slit a throat for immediate death, the exact place for a knife to be plunged, and the best place to hide a lifeless corpse. I have not been caught, and I am confident that I never will be.

Now, you may stay and listen to my story, or you could leave and risk getting added to the Kill Book. You may want to choose wisely... You never know when I could be the movement in the corner of your eye, the suspicious silhoette lurking in the nearby darkness, the sharpened knife to your throat, the prickling down your spine, the fear in your eyes, you worst nightmare...

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Well? Should I continue or just forget about it? I need to know before I continue to post a fic that no one is reading.
Oh yeah, there may be Ferard later in the story if it is continued. Just let me know on that too.
'Til next time. xox